Time passes. It is never ending, but it stops and it goes. Everyone is waiting for something; but not so much waiting as looking. Everyone is looking for something. I have been looking for many things, countless things. Innumerable things:
Bee, who doesn't know it yet. She is on his way to me, but she cannot comprehend it, no, not yet. She is not yet here. She is in another place, waiting to be born. She does not exist. But he sees me, and I see him. He is here, with me, eternally.
Truth, which evades me at every possible chance. He comes to visit me at times, in little bubbles, which only last a few seconds, then are gone faster than they came. She does not visit others, not so much; not anymore.
Life, which many would say that I've found, that I am living, that I am life, that life is me. But. No. I am not life and life is not me. I have not lived, not fully, not the way they want me to. And what with this I am happy as can be.
Home, what is nowhere, what doesn't exist anymore. My home has been long dead. My home is gone, forever. Home was somewhere very, very, very far away. Much farther than most can imagine right now. My home was Lyra, Arcturus. Arcturus was my home, and now it is gone. My home is gone. But, hark!: my home still exists, it has all-ways. And so, my home is with him.
As many cannot see, we are all here, and we never can't be.